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Saturday Five

1 I’m sorry, whingeing as ever, but another almost sleepless night – asleep for an hour, awake for at least three, the soundest hour’s sleep after the radio alarm comes on. This afternoon, I was told I looked tired. No, really. REALLY?

2 Brace yourselves, you’re getting a look at my next passport photo. If I tell you this is probably the best passport photo I’ve ever had, do feel for me. One isn’t allowed to smile nowadays, of course. But I’m convinced that I still don’t look so old and I know I don’t look so frightened as in the picture that was taken ten years ago.

I know. I’m not claiming to look good. But you’d not mess with me, right?

Anyway, the point is, I popped into the local photographer’s to make an appointment. “Oh, I think Phil could do it right now if you like?” I nearly ran for it. But I asked for a mirror and used a comb instead and the deed was done.

3 Equally good service was received at the local garage. Yesterday, I heard a knocking sound from the back of the car – no, no one was locked in the boot. So I toddled in, and Graham came for a turn round the block with me to listen for himself. He has a couple of ideas and doesn’t think it’s serious. But it’s a bit more today than it was yesterday, so I went in to book an appointment. They’re fitting it round my social life, darlings, can anyone be nicer?

4 This afternoon, we went to the memorial service of a lovely, lovely man. He was 93, it was more a time for loving memories than great shock and grief, though his wife and family must feel it sorely. But it was a fine service. Afterwards, we went back to the house for tea – there was a marquee on the lawn. Tea there was, but most people headed for the other table and picked up a glass of Pol Roger. I know. No pretension I assure you. It comes naturally to them. I’ve a feeling that the truly classy went for the tea, but I didn’t.

5 Picture of Augustus. So delightful, how soporific eating can be for a small child.

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The Unobservant Eye of Z

Dramatis personae:
My husband, Lovely Tim or LT for short (though he is actually tall).
My late husband, the Sage, aka Russell.
My children: Dearest daughter Weeza, who has London Ways, is married to Phil. Their daughter is Zerlina Buttercup and their son is Augustus Bufo. Elder son - Al X, is married to Dilly. Their children are Squiffany Virgilia, Maximus Pugsley and Hadrian Swallow. Younger son - Ro married Dora in September 2014 and their first baby, Rufus Russell, was born on 9th June last year.
Big Sister: Wink. She lives in Wiltshire, 230 miles away, but we're much closer than that.
We live with our cat Eloise, a black tortoiseshell half-Ragdoll.
Bantams live in the garden, recent additions being tiny Seramas called Crow, Jet and Yvette, along with three chicks, and cats live in the barns but we feed them and they have ambitions to be pets too. In addition, cows come to visit in the summer. Mostly, they stay in the fields. None of them has got a hoof in the door yet.
There is an annexe to the house, where Roses lives and her beloved, Lawrence, spends a lot of time there. Her son, Boy, lives there too.

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Updating takes too much memory, sorry - but then I'm not very young any more, so am hanging on to the memory I've got. Please don't look for any significance in the order - I'm not drunk but I am disorderly.

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Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?